Nada
by Eira Stradling
Summary: In this version of Cinderella, I've changed the names and the focus. I'm going to focus on the stepsisters rather than Cinderella.


Hope. It's the one thing that keeps me going, what gives me the strength to hold back my grief and fear. It's what allows me to forget my beautiful sister, despite the ashes that often coat her perfectly plump cheeks. Hope is the only part of me that is as beautiful as she is.

Melia, her name like honey, could flow with wonder from any man's lips when he sees her. Many have, but she takes no notice. A name such as mine, Nada, could never be said with wonder. The twin of Semele can always be counted on to fade into her name-noting. Mother is quite ironic. She has set me up for failure, for what kind of name is nothing? What man can be expected to love nothing?

"Nada!" The voice screeches from the balcony. I look from my seat in the garden up to the face of my mother. Lines riddle her face, making her green eyes sharper, crueler. I say nothing, knowing she will only cut me off to say something that matters.

"Come inside. Your skin will burn. No man will take a wife with brown skin." The balcony door slams shut after the sweep of her skirt slips inside. I sigh. No man would marry me brown skin or not. I am, quite literally, nothing.

Leaving the garden is difficult, but I do so anyway because Mother will only squawk more nonsense if I stay.

I suppose now I can indulge myself. Perhaps Semele has already started her music lessons, and I will be alone with it. My hope is proven worthwhile for once; clashing chords of the much abused violin echo through the hall. Mother is certainly in her rooms, reading. What a stroke of luck! Market day for Melia, Mother tucked away, and Semele distorting Beethoven so that I hardly recognize the proper 5th symphony when I hear it; what a blessing.

My destination is the small sewing room. The smell is mild, but roses come through nonetheless. Stashed behind Melia's sewing basket of linens to be mended is a box. I doubt that Melia has noticed it, the dreamer she is. Inside the nondescript box in my embroidery hoop and latest project: my gown that I hand-stitched myself. The self-given task is the embroidery I planned on paper scraps. Those scraps are beneath the dress. For a small moment, I hold the fabric in front of me, imagining a ball with handsome men who don't have a care in the world that my name is nothing. It's foolishness, and very Melia-like, but I can't help allowing my hope to give way to dreams.

There is a knocking at the front door, and I know because the main corridor has wonderful acoustics and the sewing room is no less than four doors from the main entry. The knocking makes me freeze. Someone will walk by, and see! The dress must go. I need to hide-

"Melia! Where are you? Someone is at the door!" Semele. No. I shove the dress recklessly under a cushion. The door bangs open and there my twin and stranger stands.

"Nada?" What are you doing here?" I open my mouth, and think quickly.

"I was looking for Melia. It's her job to get the door." Semele nods, and we both straighten as we hear Melia greet the visitor. Both of us exit the sewing room and smooth our gowns before walking as gracefully as possible to the parlor. It's a surprise to both of us when we find no one waiting.

"It was only a messenger," Melia's voice comes from the door. Semele snatches the crisply rolled parchment from Melia. I keep quiet.

Melia speaks again: "It's from the palace, sisters. Have we been invited somewhere?" The parchment is unrolled while Semele sneers, "You shall stay home if we are invited somewhere." I don't understand the cruelty my sister and mother have expressed routinely to Melia. I try to offset it as much as possible, but I do not often get the chance, for I would be punished for showing her any sort of kindness.

"Every eligible lady has been ordered by His Highness Liamarold, heir to the Imperial Throne and current Duke of the Capital, to come forth to the Capital Castle on the dates following according to region. Voyage expenses will not be paid by the Treasury. If unable to attend, His Highness will visit the houses of residence at his convenience." Semele reads the official letter, her eyes going bigger with each end of a sentence.

"What is this?" Mother has arrived.

"We've been invited to a ball!" Semele squeals.

"When?" Mother's calmness makes me wary.

"The Capital residents are scheduled last…" Semele scans the scroll, "Oh, here it is: April 3rd at 5:00 that evening."

"That's three months from now," Melia murmurs. Mother nods. Semele has a pout on her lips. I am grateful for the three months. Perhaps my dress will be finished by then—

"We've plenty of time to prepare," Mother states plaintively.

For me, those months are incredibly fast. My dress is finished three days prior, but Mother has bought Semele and me beautiful new dresses for the ball. Poor Melia has been ordered to stay home. She is as eligible as Semele or me, and so legally, she has to go. I think. I have a plan to get her to the ball, and three days to get everything set. No one must know. The dress I have made must be adjusted, the slippers found (for they were meant to be a decoration, not apparel), and our horses and carriage prepared. The carriage I have in mind is an old one, but with some paint secreted from the village stores, it shall be a fine thing. The horses I must care for on the last day, and they are the one thing I've no worry for. I have a way with them, but as much use to me as it currently is, after the ball it will go on to be rather use_less_. Right now, I am most concerned with the dress. Everything must be adjusted to fit her, and so I am here in the sewing room, starting with the ½" adjustment at the hips. The bodice must come in another inch, and the sleeves shortened slightly. The hem must be taken in 3 inches, but all of these are simple. Calming myself, I focus on each stitch. Rhythm and patience allow me to go through the adjustments in 2 hours. I take another to inspect the embroidery, and make the necessary changes. There. Melia will be beautiful.

I must find the slippers. They are as delicate as dandelion floss, and made of glass. I believe that to fill the space between Melia's feet and the uncomfortable glass, my thick wool stockings will do. Putting the stockings under the dress before I forget, I decide to sneak into Semele's room. I have a feeling she has them.

In the hall, I check for the usual off-key notes. Yes, there they are. I move quickly down the hall and slip into the mystery that is my sister's domain. I stride to the wardrobe and throw open the doors. Looking down, I see them. Could it truly be as simple as this?

"Nada?" I freeze. That's Melia's voice. I gulp.

"Melia," I begin, "you must not tell Mother or Semele of this." Turning, I see her nodding without understanding my reasons. Now I truly cannot let her down. She trusts me, and is more of a sister than my own twin.

* * *

Melia hasn't said a word, and it will prove to be an advantage. Tonight, the musicians will play for the citizens of the Capital. I believe there will be a mystery woman who arrives and dazzles the other guests. She will wear glass slippers, and dance with the Prince of our kingdom. Melia will find love, and be free of Mother once and for all. I only wish I had such hope for myself.

* * *

I sit quietly as Mother drones on stiffly about the foreign royalty who had also come to strengthen diplomatic relations. Semele is also quiet for once, and listening attentively. I have no need to know that the Russian prince (the one who is content to be third in line and to be an ambassador) has come to help our Prince Liamarold decide on a wife. It's unlikely that I'll speak to him, as no one notices me when Mother isn't around. I think of Melia and her surprise when she finds the note I left in plain sight:

Make use of the dress, horses, and carriage. The slippers, well. Try to keep your balance while dancing.

Signed,

Your Fairy Godmother

The last bit makes me smile. Melia will be fashionably late and be the belle of the ball.

"Nada, what is the Russian Prince doing at the ball tonight?" Mother quizzes, gathering that I have not given her my full attention.

"He is here to strengthen relations between Russia and our nation," I answer, as I did pay attention at first.

"And his name is?" Mother's eyes narrow and gleam like demonic emeralds. That is how I know it is a trick question.

"I am not to call him by name," I reply, "I am to address him as His Highness of Russia."

"Excellently put, Nada," Mother nods before going on, "however, it is good to know that his name is Dimitri Olaf Ikwinski." _"Of course it is," _goes through my mind, but I use other words.

"Yes, Mother."

When we finally step out of our carriages, doormen greet us and escort us to the grand ballroom. Beautiful chandeliers hang in light refracting sets of three, in the symbol of the Triad of Knights. It hearkens back to the tale of our own three islands, now united under one king. It takes me a moment to realize that Prince Liamarold is greeting us, and at his side is a man wearing traditional Russian garb, albeit without fur for the summertime. This Russian is handsome, with dark eyes and thick hair that frames his face in offhand waves. Oh, my...

Prince Liamarold has stopped speaking, and I follow my mother and twin in curtsying. My curtsy is not as graceful due to my distracted mindset beforehand, but adequate enough to please Mother.

"I would like to introduce the Russian ambassador, prince, and friend Dimitri Olaf Ikwinski," our prince gestures to the Russian with a smile.

Unable to help the one on my face, I curtsy again with Mother and Semele.

"And who might these beauties be?" Prince Dimitri asks, but looks directly at me. Why is he looking at me instead of Mother?

"I would like to present my daughters, Semele and Nada," Mother begins, "it is an honor to do so, Your Highness."

"Nada?" The Russian man of power seems surprised, and I find and interest in the ornate floor tiles. Mother, why am I nothing? Is that what you thought of me when I left your womb? My thoughts are pushed back as Mother places her hands on my shoulders. I keep my head bowed.

"Nada is my eldest," Mother tells him, "my girls are twins, you see."

"Interesting," is his response, and when I dare lift my head, he is looking at me again. Heat flushes my cheeks and I break eye contact to look at my sister, who has caught the attention of a passing nobleman. He is flirting with her, and that makes me smile. I hear the band begin a new song, and I watch my sister be asked for a dance. My smile grows when I think of her dancing through the night with the curly-haired man.

"Lord Ellings has found an interest in your twin," Prince Liamarold comments, and I see him smiling like I am.

"I hope so," I say quietly, "for she has always wished to fall in love while dancing...Your Highness," I remember to address him properly. Though Semele has no gift for instruments, she dances beautifully. She works with music rather than create it.

"It seems I have found an interest in you, Lady Nada," Prince Dimitri says, holding out a hand. "Will you give me a dance?"

His eyes are so dark, but filled with hopeful light at the same time. Could he be my hope?

"I would like that very much, Your Highness," I say softly, and place my hand in his outstretched one. He pulls me closer gently, and puts his other hand on my waist, already in position to dance.

"Please," his mouth smiles and eyes crinkle, "call me Dimitri."

"As you wish...Dimitri," my smile grows a little.

The dance is slow, but that means I must talk to Prince Dimitri. What do I say? What does he think of me? Why-

Oh, dear. Oh, no.

"Please forgive me," I say quickly, "I didn't-"

"Nada," his voice is soft, "there is noting to forgive." Nothing to forgive?

"I-I stepped on your foot," I stutter, horrified and confused.

"Your foot was as light as a bird's," he tells me before a twirl, "there is no harm done."

Near the middle of the dance, I step on his foot again. My face flushes, and I open my mouth, but he speaks first: "Do not worry, little bird. Relax your feathers." Does he really think me to be like a bird? The thought makes me flush more and my smile grow.

Dancing with him becomes so easy, and our conversation light. He loves to visit Prince Liamarold, but also misses his home and tiny sister Mira. I can tell that he dotes on her. He even admits spoiling her! Why can't Mother and Semele be so easy to talk to? I've never been this at ease with anyone. As a matter of fact, I am so at ease I tell him how awful Mother is without thinking.

"I don't mean to trouble you; it's just until I'm married that I must be with her," I explain.

"You are betrothed?" his eyes are serious and his tone remains mild.

"No," I shake my head, "but Mother will no doubt arrange something."

"Is that what you want?"

"I don't know," I say, frowning, "no one has ever asked."

The song ends too soon. I want to stay with him, but he is a prince. No doubt there are other-

"Will you walk with me awhile?" Dimitri holds out his arm. I smile at him as I take it.

"I would love to."

As we approach the side exit, I see Melia slip down the stairs as the guests watch. The crowd parts for the prince as he goes to greet her. It's so silent I almost believe that everyone is holding their breath. I know otherwise. Mother's wide eyes and heaving chest are clues. Of course, Melia is radiant. Her golden hair is swept up to the stylish bun and barrette at the top of her head, and the blue fabric clings in the right places; my silver embroidery the subtle accent of elegance. The slippers finish her attire, and make her seem as delicate as a freshly cut flower blossom. Her eyes are shy when she curtsies gracefully to the prince, and his bow in return is extended with his hand asking for a dance. She accepts, and on cue, the musicians begin a sweet song that all know, and I sigh over the romance of the situation. It is clear even to me that Melia and Prince Liamarold could fall deeply in love in this moment alone. I smile at Dimitri.

"It's wonderful to watch others find happiness," I comment.

"It is," he agrees, 'and it is also wonderful to find someone who could be yours."

He's looking right at me. I flush, and hide my face by turning my head.

"Nada," he turns my face back by putting his hand beneath my chin gently, "will you let me kiss you?"

"Kiss me?" I whisper. He moves close enough for there to be no more than two inches between our noses. My breathing starts to hitch. No one has ever wanted to kiss me.

"Kiss you," he says, and I feel his breath on my lips as strongly as his hand under my chin. My eyes move down so his lips are my focus. I've always wanted to know what it's like to be kissed. Who would want to besides Dimitri?

I take a chance.

I tell him yes.

His kiss is warm. I taste? Yes, I taste honey and spices. The firmness of his lips doesn't stop the kiss from being soft, because it is. There is heat in my belly, but the kiss ends.

The dark brown eyes that meet mine when I open them have a softness in them, and his arm goes around me. He turns me to walk in the gardens. Quiet talk accompanies the scent of roses. I suppose time passes, but that's not the focus of my attention. All that moves through my thoughts is Dimitri.

"Nada," he says abruptly, "I would like to extend an invitation to you and your family. I would like for you and your family to stay here as my guest."

Stay? With him? Mother would be thrilled. Semele would squeal. I just want to spend more time with him, and that is his offer. But Prince Liamarold...this is _his_ home. I bite my lip, trying to decide.

"Dimitri," I say slowly, "I wish to accept with all my heart, but I...I think you should ask His Highness Prince Liamarold. This is his home, and I don't want to upset anyone or-"

"Nada," his hands go to my shoulders, "I will speak to Liamarold. He is my friend, so fear not. A letter shall invite you and your family here."

"Thank you," my smile turns into a rare grin. He likes me enough to spend more time with me. That's the thought that keeps carousing through my head on the way home, after the music ends and Dimitri kisses my hand good-bye.


End file.
